


foregone

by adamantine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Deciding Between Love and Duty, Fraldarius Family Feelings, M/M, Pre-Canon, dimilix is theme relevant enough I tagged it but this is really Glenn fic, major character death is for Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: As a knight, Glenn values duty.As a brother, Glenn values Felix’s happiness.OR: Glenn, his brotherly love for Felix, his love of knighthood, and the balance between them all.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Glenn Fraldarius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	foregone

**Author's Note:**

> this started with me just wanting to write some fraldarius family headcanons hahahahaha

An explosion knocks Glenn from his horse. There’s no time to think, no time to react. He hits the ground with shocking force. His skull rattles in his helm and then nothing: he blacks out.

He awakens to a ringing in his ears that makes all other noise sound muffled and distant, like swimming along the coast of Fraldarius and hearing Felix call him from the shore. The heat in the air ruins his fragile fantasy but he clings to it all the same. If he keeps his eyes shut he can pretend this isn’t happening. It’s a bad dream, nothing more.

Glenn tosses his ruined helm and stands.

Everything is on fire. The carriages, the tents, the horses, the knights — wood and cloth and flesh burn with equal ferocity. Lord Gwyther falls to the ground, prying at his armor as it sears his skin. Sir Yorath crawls to Glenn’s side and grabs his ankle but his burned flesh can’t get a firm grip. Glenn shakes him off and runs.

The smell of smoke and burning flesh is disturbingly nostalgic. The streets of Fhirdiad used to smell of it during the plague. Glenn stumbles over the corpse of Sir Fyodor — his distinctive wolf-headed sword in its sheath — and feels sick when nothing but ash scatters into the air from inside his armor.

Where is—where is—

He has to find Prince Dimitri.

He looks for golden hair. He refuses to entertain the thought that the prince is ash like Sir Fyodor. He was inside the royal carriage when the explosion happened, close to Glenn. If Glenn is safe, surely the prince—

A blue cloak lies crumpled on the ground, its Blaiddyd crest soaked with blood. Glenn’s stomach drops.

_No!_

The king’s corpse is unmarred by the flames, but his head—his head— _where is his head?_

No time to dwell, no time to be sick. He must find the prince.

His ears ring and ring and ring. Sweat drips down his face. He wipes it off with his gauntlets. It’s not sweat. No time to dwell.

Two heads of golden hair are at the burned out carriage.

No time to be sick.

The fires blaze with an intensity that reeks of dark magic. None of this is an accident. Someone planned this — burn the knights first and assassinate the royal family in the ensuing chaos. If the enemy realizes Prince Dimitri is alive they will come for him and kill him.

Glenn won’t let that happen.

“Run. Your Highness, you have to run.” Glenn grabs Prince Dimitri’s shoulder.

The prince’s eyes are vacant. He looks at Glenn but he doesn’t _see_ him. His mind is elsewhere.

Glenn slaps him. “Wake up, fool!”

“Glenn?” Glenn sees his name on Prince Dimitri’s lips more than he hears him say it. The ringing in his ears hasn’t stopped.

“Get up! You have to run!” He yanks Prince Dimitri off the ground and pushes him away from King Lambert’s head. “Run! I’ll be right behind you,” Glenn lies.

Prince Dimitri takes off in a sprint. There are woods they can hide in if the flames don’t spread further. Glenn unsheathes his sword and chases after the prince.

Pain shoots up his leg, spreads to his groin, to his torso.

He’s burning.

The prince—His Highness— _Dimitri_ —

_Please let him be safe._

Glenn screams.

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

The plague sweeping Faerghus has reached new heights. The dead are piling up in the streets of Fhirdiad. Undertakers can’t keep up with the demand; gravediggers are overworked. Mass pyres are turned to as a solution but the resulting ash is almost worse for morale than the stench of rotting corpses. People refused to leave their homes for fear of contracting the plague. The city is all but shut down.

Fraldarius territory isn’t spared from the destruction. Entire villages have been wiped out as the plague enters its third year in Faerghus. Still, the situation is less dire outside of the capital which is the reasoning Duke Fraldarius uses to send his family to their ancestral home while he stays in Fhirdiad. He’s needed at the king’s side. The plague doesn’t discern between classes and more than one lord has succumbed to it, leaving the nobility of Faerghus in a panic. But while duty is the excuse he gives for staying behind Glenn thinks the real reason he stays is because the king is haunted by the queen’s death. Duke Fraldarius hasn’t left the king’s side for more than a few weeks since it happened and that was the result of weather delaying his return.

The duke isn’t the only Fraldarius reluctant to let a Blaiddyd out of his sight. Felix throws a tantrum when he learns he’s to be separated from his beloved Prince Dimitri. The tantrum is of epic proportions and lasts until he exhausts himself to sleep on the carriage ride to Fraldarius. Glenn is horribly annoyed with the display and isn’t afraid to show it. Their mother scolds him for his lack of sympathy. How could he be so unkind towards his younger brother?

_Hmph._ Where’s _Glenn’s_ sympathy? He’s leaving behind friends too, but no one seems to care about that when Felix is crying up a storm about the prince. Typical. It’s been like this since Felix was born. All of their mother’s attention goes to dealing with Felix’s endless problems. It’s not fair and if it’s the reason Glenn sometimes pinches Felix’s cheeks a little too hard or is a little too smug when he’s allowed somewhere Felix isn’t — well, no one has to know.

After the wreckage of the capital, the sprawling Fraldarius estate feels dreamlike. No ash in the air, no filthy stench of corpses, no haunted looks in everyone’s eyes. The flowers are blooming for spring and the air feels clean, aided by the nearby ocean. The water is positively chilly no matter the time of year but when the weather turns hot the cool temperatures become a welcome escape. Glenn is counting down the days to when he’ll be allowed to swim. He loves the ocean and he especially loves that it’s the one place Felix won’t follow him. Felix appreciates the water about as much as the feral cats roaming their estate do (which is to say he yowls disagreeably whenever forced into its vicinity). The ocean is Glenn’s Felix-free space and he can’t wait to spend the summer basking in it. In the meantime, Glenn trains and plays with the other boys his age, and when Felix asks if he can join them Glenn says no.

Two weeks after returning to Fraldarius, a stableboy Glenn has been spending time with comes down with a sudden illness. His symptoms are mild and don’t align with the Faerghus plague. An out of season cold, the healer concludes. No special precautions are taken when Glenn visits the boy to wish him a speedy recovery.

Four days into the illness the stableboy takes a sudden turn for the worse. He develops a fever and a nasty rash — the classic symptoms of the plague ravaging the kingdom. As a precaution, Glenn is isolated within the Fraldarius manor because of his contact with the stableboy. No one knows how the plague is spread. Entire families can die from it save for one family member with no obvious reason for their survival. Best to take precautions, the healer advises, and let her know if Glenn develops any symptoms.

Locked away in his room, there’s nothing for him to do but read and no matter how much he enjoys the chivalric tales his mother brings him he can only read so many of them a day before dying of boredom. Felix, who doesn’t quite understand why Glenn has to be locked away, is his only solace. He’s not allowed in Glenn’s room but their mother doesn’t stop him from hovering outside Glenn’s door. He keeps Glenn company, prattling on about topics Glenn would normally tune out, but with a lack of better conversational partners and the loneliness of isolation, Glenn finds himself actually paying attention to his younger brother.

Felix’s favorite topic to ramble about is Prince Dimitri. The pair of them are horribly attached to each other, always gravitating together. Glenn can remember a time when the infant prince and Felix cried until they were placed in the same cradle. Of course Felix talks about him. What surprises Glenn isn’t story number three thousand about Prince Dimitri and Felix’s make-believe adventures but that Felix has a lot to say about _Glenn_ too. Felix wants to be a good swordsman like Glenn. He’s tried to replicate some of Glenn’s moves with the practice sword their father gave him (unbeknownst to Felix it isn’t a real practice sword but a toy sword made for children) but he doesn’t understand that thing Glenn does with his feet. Can he show Felix how to do it? Pretty please? For the first time in Glenn’s life, he realizes just how much Felix looks up to him. He’s been so wrapped up in jealousy and resentment over Felix being the spoiled baby of the family that he didn’t consider how Felix sees him in return. He’s completely missed how Felix innocently emulates him, how he looks for Glenn’s approval, how he sees Glenn as a role model.

The realization is a lot to process. He’s still grappling with it when the stableboy’s condition rapidly declines, resulting in his death.

The person who informs him of this is Felix, who sneaks into his room to cry about it. Despite only having met the boy a few times, Felix grieves as if he’s lost his best friend, his tears soaking Glenn’s nightshirt. It isn’t quite clear if Felix grasps the concept of death, as he keeps declaring Glenn is going to “leave” him too.

“Don’t be stupid, Fe. How can I leave you when I’m locked in my room?”

“Petya was in his room too,” Felix wails.

Enough time has passed that Glenn feels confident he didn’t contract the plague from Petya or anyone else. He tells his mother as much and she promises to fetch the healer and have him cleared.

He waits for the healer the next morning but she doesn’t come. No one does. Not a servant with his breakfast, not his mother to say good morning, and not Felix to chatter the time away. Something is wrong. Glenn knows it in his gut like he knows where and when to parry an opponent before they’ve even made the decision to strike. He’s done with hiding in his room — he needs to see Felix. The healer could be busy, the servants delayed, and his mother caught up in her duties, but there’s nothing that would prevent Felix from being at his door except the unimaginable.

Dread turns to fear when he sees the gaggle of adults hovering outside Felix’s bedroom door. A nun from the nearby Church, his father’s men, servants of House Fraldarius — Glenn pushes past the grim-faced gathering to get into Felix’s room.

Curtains block the morning sun, plunging Felix’s room into darkness. A lone candle is the sole source of light, illuminating the sight of their mother sitting at Felix’s bedside and holding a damp cloth to his forehead.

“Glenn!” she chides, “What are you doing here? It’s not safe.”

“He’s my brother,” Glenn says simply.

They leave it at that.

Fever rages across Felix’s small form. He drifts in and out of awareness, mumbling nonsense and kicking at his blankets. He doesn’t sleep. Sleep would be a reprieve from his suffering. His eyes remain open but he doesn’t see Glenn or their mother. They can’t talk to him, can’t reassure him. He’s awake in body but not in mind. Every moan, every cry, every sob Felix makes is a knife to Glenn’s heart. He feels as if he’s the one in pain, not Felix.

_Not him, not him. Please. Not him._ Glenn pleads with the goddess. _Anyone but him._

Glenn and their mother hold vigil over Felix. A healer checks on Felix’s condition and confirms their fears: this is the work of the Faerghus plague. The plague is resistant to faith magic; there is little the healer can do but ease Felix’s pain and help him sleep. For anything beyond that, the only recourse is waiting to see if Felix can fight off the infection on his own. There is some hope the healer provides. From what she’s heard, Crest bearers have a better chance of survival than those without and Felix’s Major Crest might further increase those odds — though it’s difficult to know for certain when it’s not as if there are many Major Crest holders to compare him to.

_You can’t have him_ , Glenn tells the goddess. _He’s mine._ He’ll fight her with his bare hands if he must.

The curtains in Felix’s room are drawn so tight it’s impossible to tell whether it’s night or day. The occasional replacement of the candles at Felix’s bedside is the only indication of the passage of time. Glenn must doze off at some point because he finds himself jolted awake by Felix screaming in agony. The sound of it destroys Glenn. Their mother clutches Felix’s hand and lets out a sob. Glenn has never seen her cry before — it makes him feel even more helpless.

_Be brave, Glenn_ , he tells himself. He must be brave like the knights in his stories. But the knights in his stories are brave for themselves, not brave in the face of their loved ones’ anguish. This is a different type of fear and the knights in his stories are of no help.

Felix thrashes and cries for the entirety of a candle to burn out before exhausting himself into sleep, like a grotesque parody of his tantrum on the carriage ride home.

“You’re going to be okay,” Glenn whispers. “Do you hear me, Fe?” He takes Felix’s tiny hand in his. “You can’t die. You’ll make His Highness sad.” He takes a deep breath to calm himself. “You’ll make _me_ sad. You have to get better. You have to. We’ll never forgive you.”

“Glenn, oh my son.” Their mother pulls him into a tight hug. Glenn isn’t a crier. Not like Felix is. But he’s exhausted mentally and physically and he can’t help himself from sobbing into his mother’s arms.

He stays like that for some time, taking comfort in his mother’s presence as he rarely has since Felix was born. Somehow the thought no longer brings up the spike of jealousy it used to. He would gladly give up her attention if it meant Felix would get better.

When the candles begin to reach their last legs she lets go of him to find a replacement. They’ve gone through the stock in Felix’s room, forcing her to leave and search for more.

Felix hasn’t awakened since his earlier thrashing. Glenn isn’t sure if it’s an improvement from when he was staring at nothing or if it’s a sign he’s too sick to even do that. What if Felix never awakens again? Glenn doesn’t know what he would do with himself if that came to pass. He grabs Felix’s hand and squeezes it for his own reassurance. He hardly expects a response. Perhaps that’s why it takes him a moment to register when the small hand in his returns the gesture.

“Felix?”

The blankets stir. Felix groans.

Glenn is unable to stop the hope blooming in his chest. _Please_ , Glenn begs the goddess. “Please,” Glenn begs Felix.

Felix’s dark eyelashes flutter as he struggles to open his eyes but when he does he looks at Glenn and _sees him_. The vacant stare of pain is gone.

“Felix!” Glenn pulls him close and hugs him with all his might.

“You’re crushing me,” Felix whines. Despite the complaint, he raises his arms to hug Glenn back.

“Sorry.” Glenn isn’t though. He lets out a sob of relief.

The healer is fetched and she confirms Felix appears to be recovering. The fever has passed and a rash on his stomach is fading, all signs the plague is leaving Felix’s system.

Duke Fraldarius arrives the next day in a flurry of panic. He left as soon as he received the news about Felix’s condition and is relieved to find Felix has already recovered. He fusses over Felix, as if afraid to let him out of his sight. Glenn understands the feeling. The Duke carries Felix in his arms to the parlor while Felix’s bed is stripped clean, the bedding to be burned. Glenn teases Felix about something inconsequential, making him pout in that charming way of his. Duchess Fraldarius joins them in the parlor, smiles at her two sons and husband. None of them pay attention to the sluggishness of her movements. They miss how she dabs at her forehead with a teal handkerchief. They don’t worry when she retires early, complaining of fatigue.

In a few months, the completion of a massive public works project spearhead by an Adrestian mage named Cornelia Arnim will change Faerghus forever. The plague will be wiped out and as thanks Cornelia will be appointed a court mage in Fhirdiad.

Unfortunately, neither of these things are to the benefit of House Fraldarius.

For Duchess Fraldarius, Cornelia’s efforts are too late. Not long after her son’s recovery the plague will claim her life.

For Glenn Fraldarius, the rise of Cornelia Arnim seals his fate.

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

For as long as he can remember, Glenn has wanted to be a knight. As a child his favorite tales were those of knights and knighthood. He admires their loyalty, how they would do anything to protect their liege. He wants their bravery, to be able to face his fears. He trains to achieve their prowess in battle, to protect those he loves.

His father knows of his ambitions. He supports Glenn, finds the best trainers for him. His pride is obvious when Glenn is made a royal page, despite how it means a permanent move to the capital for him. Felix is less happy about the change. He’s upset enough leaving Prince Dimitri behind in the capital, losing Glenn too has him inconsolable.

“It’s not like Dad leaves His Majesty’s side for very long,” Glenn reasons with him.

“Why can’t I just stay here with you and Dimitri?” Felix sniffles.

“It’s important you learn about our territory, little brother. You can’t do that from Fhirdiad.”

In the end, Felix must accept their separation. It pains Glenn to be parted from his brother, but he’s old enough to understand the inevitably of it. They have their own paths to walk in life.

A year into Glenn’s time as a page King Lambert declares war on Sreng. As a page, Glenn isn’t expected to fight in battle but he is expected to join the campaign. He isn’t the only Fraldarius going to war — their father has a starring role as the King’s right-hand man. Felix is left behind with Prince Dimitri. They’re much too young to go anywhere near a battlefield.

The march to Sreng takes three weeks. Moving an army is a laborious process. At Gautier, the Margrave and his oldest son join their troops. The youngest and heir Sylvain stays in Gautier. He’s not much older than Felix and Prince Dimitri. Seeing him makes Glenn miss them.

A feeling of excitement possesses Glenn as they near Sreng. Battle is where knights prove themselves. It’s a shame he won’t be allowed the chance to. He might be young but he’s strong and who knows when the opportunity to battle might come again? It doesn’t occur to Glenn that the fighting might last longer than a battle.

Five months into the invasion of Sreng all novelty of the battlefield is long gone. Glenn doesn’t fight but it hardly spares him the gruesomeness of it. The healer’s tent has the worst of it. Naturally, it’s where Glenn is frequently sent to. He has runs countless errands for the healers and has seen wounds of every magnitude on every part of the human body. The dead bodies on the streets of Fhirdiad are a quaint memory at this point.

He doesn’t see his father often as Duke Fraldarius — the Shield of Faerghus as he’s been come to known — is rarely off the battlefield. The combination of King Lambert’s terrifying strength and Duke Fraldarius’s vigilant protection makes them a formidable duo. Sreng’s defeat is inevitable, yet it doesn’t bring a quicker end to the war. Some days Glenn thinks they will fight until every last man in Sreng is dead.

The casualties on the Kingdom’s side are comparatively low — or so Glenn is told, as from his perspective the deaths on their side keep piling up. As part of his duties, he helps write letters to the loved ones of fallen soldiers announcing their deaths. He tells parents their sons died honorably, widows their husbands died nobly, and children their fathers died courageously. He writes at least one letter day, but most days it’s more. The worst letters to write are the ones for the squires, some of them not much older than him. They die foolishly, while bringing a fresh mount or a replacement weapon for their knights.

Glenn trains fervently in what little free time he has for he will not die like the squires, assisting some errant knight. Perhaps the most painful lesson of the war is that few knights are as he imagined them to be. Too many of the knights are practically worthless as soldiers, the worst of them being outright hindrances on the battlefield. Clearly, some of the lords use knighthood as a way to reward their followers instead of rewarding skill. Glenn despises them. Their actions are an affront to knighthood. The knights in direct service to the king are the main exception. They’re true knights, like what Glenn aspires to be. He won’t allow himself to be knighted because of who his father is. He will earn his knighthood.

The camp they’ve set up is a permanent base at this point. Glenn scurries past familiar tents to reach the start of the battlefront. He has a message to deliver. The contents of it are unimportant, forgotten by him in the coming years but the delivery of it stays with him for the rest of his life.

The knight he’s come for is headed into battle. If Glenn doesn’t deliver his message before the man joins the fighting he’ll have to wait until he returns. Glenn will earn himself a good scolding for wasting time. Why didn’t he run faster? Doesn’t he know how to deliver a message in haste? The thought of the lecture he’ll receive puts him in a sour mood. Maybe he can still reach the knight. He isn’t too far out.

Glenn takes his chances and runs. It’s not as if the battle ever reaches this close to the camp.

Glenn is a fool. The Sreng are on their last legs, throwing themselves in a final, desperate push against the Kingdom army. Glenn hardly has time to register what’s happening when an arrow comes flying at him. He manages to avoid it, but he can’t celebrate his survival for long before another arrow is hurtling towards him. The knight he’s chasing saves him, using his shield to take the hit. The arrow strikes it harmlessly.

“What are you doing here?” The knight is livid at his presence. Pages aren’t allowed on the battlefield. They are far too young.

Glenn feels horribly foolish, risking his life to avoid a scolding. He readies himself to apologize. “I’m—look out!”

The next attack isn’t from the arrow of a distant archer. A rider closes in on them and hurls a javelin at the knight. The knight is barely able to avoid the javelin’s attack. He grabs his lance, ready to defend himself from the oncoming rider. But the rider isn’t alone. An archer follows close behind him and Glenn just knows when the knight is distracted by the rider the archer will strike.

Glenn has to do something.

He picks up the fallen javelin and flings it at the archer. As expected, his throw is lacking the force needed to be a danger to the archer but it does serve as a momentary distraction and that’s all Glenn needs to reach him and strike him down with his dagger. He’s small and not very strong but Glenn has spent the last few months watching men die from wounds not well placed enough to kill them quickly. Consequently, he knows where he should strike a man if he wants their deaths to be fast.

The knight fights the rider valiantly, killing the man after a drawn-out clash of lances. The archer’s death is instant.

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

The invasion of Sreng comes to a conclusion in a decisive battle between King Lambert and Sreng’s leading general. The Southern half of Sreng is annexed into the kingdom, doubling Margrave Gautier’s territory. Gautier has suffered the heaviest losses from the war, both in men and material. They should be rewarded for their sacrifice to the crown. That is the logic Duke Fraldarius uses to convince King Lambert of the merit in handing the territory over to the Margrave.

Glenn’s victory on the battlefield earns him a promotion to squire. His father is proud of him and doesn’t scold him for his recklessness as he expects. The war makes Glenn realize the levelheaded father he knew isn’t the whole of him. He’s a warrior who values strength. The king’s shield that will dispatch His Majesty’s enemies without remorse, even when those enemies are kingdom nobles looking to get a piece of the newly annexed Sreng. The Margrave’s loyalty isn’t in question; this is the real reason Duke Fraldarius doubles his territory rather than reward anyone else.

Glenn sees these machinations and doesn’t like them, just as he doesn’t like how knighthood is granted to those who don’t deserve it. It makes him angry. As a squire, he earns a reputation for being difficult and prickly. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to be liked when his talent speaks for itself. His mastery at the sword is unrivaled and when it’s time to pick up the lance he trains harder at it than any of the other squires. The lance becomes an extension of his body as much as a sword does.

His dedication to his craft pays off. He’s knighted at only fifteen and appointed to the royal guard, specifically as part of the prince’s guard.

Like his father, Prince Dimitri has the unnatural Blaiddyd strength. He makes for a worthy opponent on that basis alone, his strength greater than an adult man’s despite being a child. From those in Prince Dimitri’s age group, only Felix is able to keep up with him. Their friendship doesn’t hinder Felix from attacking him at full force. He doesn’t flinch at the prince’s monstrous strength, no matter how many times a swipe from Prince Dimitri knocks him flat on his ass.

“Too slow, little Felix.” Glenn shakes his head in disappointment.

“Don’t call me that,” Felix hisses at him as he stands, dusting himself off.

“Against a brute like His Highness all you have is speed.”

“Hey,” Prince Dimitri says defensively.

“Don’t call him that!” Felix snaps, much angrier for his prince than for himself.

“I speak only the truth. You’re little and scrawny and His Highness is a clumsy brute swinging his lance without any strategy. How he manages to get the better of you is a mystery and frankly embarrassing to watch.”

Felix lunges at him. His Crest flares, making him quicker and stronger than he normally would be but Glenn is unperturbed. He sidesteps his little brother’s predictable pattern and knocks the practice sword out of Felix’s hand with his lance.

“Too. Slow.” He points his lance at Felix’s throat.

Felix’s lip wobbles but Glenn feels no sympathy for him. If Glenn wasn’t so highly trained Felix’s outburst could have seriously injured him. His major Crest is a dangerous thing, not to be activated in childish displays of anger. Felix storms out of the training yard, no doubt to find a good place to cry in peace.

“You don’t have to be so mean to him,” Prince Dimitri says when they’re alone. He used to be such a cute, obedient kid but these days he fights with Glenn even more than Felix does. Not that Glenn doesn’t encourage it with his acerbic tongue. The only person he spares his harsh words for is Ingrid. She actually _listens_ to his feedback.

“If you keep coddling him, Your Highness, he’ll never improve. Do you know what happens to unprepared soldiers in battle? They become fodder for the enemy. By all means, if you want to get Felix killed continue swinging your lance around without a care. But if you want him to survive, become a partner that can make him stronger. Your strength is his strength.”

The Glenn’s surprise, Prince Dimitri bows. ”I apologize. You're right.” He straightens himself, resolve in his eyes. “I would never want to do anything that could bring harm to Felix.”

Glenn can’t help himself. He ruffles the prince’s hair.

“Good, now that you understand let’s see if any of what I showed you last time managed to stick in that thick head of yours.”

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

Uncle Florian is a bit of an eccentric. Engaged at a young age like Glenn, at nineteen his fiancée shocked Faerghus high society by eloping with a childhood friend to Dagda. Uncle Florian’s involvement in the elopement added to the scandal: he provided the two women with the coin they needed to start their new lives, angering his father, the late Duke Fraldarius. The marriage was unwanted by both young people, but their families refused to listen and paid the price. While his father was unsympathetic to his plight, his brother stood up for him. After their father’s passing, Uncle Florian found a place for himself in Fraldarius training soldiers and managing the territory with his brother. He’s a popular figure in Fraldarius, but his reputation outside of it is abysmal for his tendency to be _indiscriminate_ in his love life — a polite way of saying he takes lovers without regard to their sex, class, or place of origin. This is unacceptable to Faerghus high society, where love is second to duty.

Glenn has no particular opinion about his uncle’s inclinations. He rarely thinks of romance, despite being engaged. He doesn’t dread his marriage but neither is he impatient for it. If he had to describe his feelings for Ingrid he would say what he feels for her is a mix of how feels about Felix and his fellow knights. He likes training with her. She’s clever and listens. She would have the ability to be a fine knight herself if she was allowed it. His thoughts of her are decidedly unromantic, which given their difference in age might be expected but Glenn is uninterested in romance in general. They were his least favorite stories in the chivalric tales he read growing up and these days he finds himself tuning out the other knights when they brag of their romantic conquests. He doesn’t see the appeal. Perhaps this lack of care is why when Uncle Florian makes a comment during Felix’s thirteenth birthday celebration it takes him a while to understand it.

Glenn sits near the fireplace, content to watch Felix and his little group of friends — Prince Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid — run amok. They were given permission to do as they pleased, which naturally means Felix and Prince Dimitri are fighting with practice swords while blindfolded. It’s incredibly foolish and dangerous of them. Which obviously means it makes for prime entertainment.

Ingrid praises the prince (“You almost had him, Your Highness!”) while Sylvain does the same for Felix, only his version of praise sounds more like taking the piss out of Felix (“Do another one of those twirls, you nearly jabbed his eye out last time.” “That wasn’t on purpose!”).

Uncle Florian joins Glenn, a glass of wine in hand. “They’re awfully close, aren’t they?”

Glenn frowns. All four teenagers are close due to their ages and families. Prince Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain are scions of Faerghus’s greatest houses while Ingrid is Glenn’s fiancée. “That’s to be expected, isn’t it? The four of them grew up together.”

Uncle Florian raises an eyebrow. “I meant your brother and His Highness. Your father doesn’t take any issue with their _friendship_?” He says friendship as if he means another word.

“Why would he?”

Uncle Florian takes a sip of wine. “No, no I suppose Rodrigue wouldn’t. A Fraldarius choosing love over duty is unthinkable.” He laughs bitterly.

“What?”

Felix shrieks as Prince Dimitri knocks the wooden sword out of his hand. For a moment the prince looks quite pleased with himself, taking his blindfold off with a smirk, but his victory is premature. Felix doesn’t like to lose and they aren’t using real swords — he should know better. Felix doesn’t give up that easily. Felix leaps at him, knocking them both to the ground. Sylvain doubles over in laughter while Ingrid sighs in exasperation.

“Nothing, child.” Glenn bristles. He’s not a child by any definition of the word. “Watch your tongue around your brother, he’s the sensitive sort, hmm?” He gets up, leaving a bewildered Glenn behind.

“I didn't even say anything,” Glenn mutters to himself.

Felix doesn’t stand a chance in a contest of strength. Dimitri pins him down easily, his Blaiddyd blood letting him hold Felix still with only one hand as he uses the other to snatch off Felix’s blindfold. Glenn normally doesn’t pay much attention to their roughhousing but their uncle’s words won’t leave his mind. He feels as if he’s missing something and if he looks closer he’ll know what it is.

A furious blush blooms across Felix’s face. Prince Dimitri doesn’t let him go, doesn’t tear his eyes off Felix until Felix snaps and reaches for his sides to tickle him. Their positions reverse; Prince Dimitri falls flat on his back as Felix pins him smugly.

“Cheater!” Prince Dimitri manages to get out between laughter.

“Just accept that I’ve won.”

“Fine, fine. You’ve bested me, Felix.”

Felix’s delighted smile is reserved for the prince and the prince alone. It’s not a smile he gives anyone else.

Seeing it, Glenn understands what their uncle was getting at.

Everyone in the room loves Prince Dimitri, but none of them love him the way Felix does. And, as Prince Dimitri smiles back at Felix with the force of the sun, he thinks the same can be said for how the prince loves Felix.

It’s a revelation Glenn doesn’t know what to do with.

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

As a knight, Glenn values duty.

The budding feelings between Felix and Prince Dimitri can’t be. The prince has a duty he must fulfill. He can marry for love, as long as that love is a woman of the correct social standing that bears him a child with a Crest. Felix can avoid a political marriage — Glenn has House Fraldarius covered in that regard — but if the object of his affections is the prince it hardly matters that he’s free to remain unmarried. It won’t be his own choice.

Better to put a stop to things now before it becomes a scandal. Duty demands it.

As a brother, Glenn values Felix’s happiness.

Dimitri makes Felix happy. Not the prince — _Dimitri_. What is the point of duty if not to protect those he loves, not just from bodily harm but to protect their happiness?

He always tells Felix to think for himself, so why would he tell him otherwise when it comes to love? Who dares tell the prince who he can and can’t love? If Felix is who his heart chooses, Glenn will cut down anyone who dares oppose their union.

Love demands it.

⎽⎽⎽⎽⎽

At the border of Faerghus and Duscur, the royal delegation stops to make camp for the night. In the morning they will traverse through the mountainous pass that separates the two countries and by this time tomorrow Glenn will be resting at a Duscur inn instead of a tent. Maybe he’ll get to take a bath — he’s heard bathhouses are big in Duscur which sounds quite pleasant after being on the road for a week. He fantasizes about the possibility as he helps set up camp with the other knights.

Dinner is the same dull Faerghus fare they’ve been eating every night. Add food as another thing he can’t wait to try in Duscur. Maybe the inn will serve the famous Duscur bear he’s been hearing so much about. Ingrid will die of jealousy.

He looks for a place to sit and spots a golden head of hair by the campfire, hunched over a book. He’s so engrossed in his reading that he doesn’t notice when Glenn looms over him, squinting at the page enrapturing him.

_Sir Kyphon aimed a roguish smile at the King of Lions. Always so handsome, he looked especially so wearing Loog’s cloak. Loog reached for his hand—_

“I don’t remember being taught this version of Kyphon and Loog’s adventures by my history tutors.”

Prince Dimitri startles and slams the book shut. “It isn’t polite to sneak up on someone.”

“I wasn’t aware standing in armor with a full plate of food could be classified as ‘sneaking up’ on a person. My apologies, Your Highness.” Glenn bows his head mockingly and turns his attention to his meal. Bland or not, food is food and he’s starved after a day of travel. As he digs in, he notices Prince Dimitri is sitting stiffly, his book remaining firmly shut in his lap.

“Where did you get that anyway? It seems a little risqué for the royal library.” Glenn raises an eyebrow suggestively.

Prince Dimitri turns charmingly red. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

What a brat.

“Hmm, I believe my father has an extensive collection of Kyphon and Loog’s tales.” He doesn’t know if this particular volume is among that collection, but judging by the way Prince Dimitri tenses it is. “As a true collector, he’s not picky about their historical accuracy.” Prince Dimitri avoids his eyes. “I may have seen that volume in his library. In fact, I remember the spine was cracked in the same spot as your copy.” A lie, he doesn’t remember shit but Prince Dimitri doesn’t deny it.

“My, my. I didn’t peg the future king of Faerghus for a thief.”

“I didn’t steal it! Rodrigue said I could borrow whatever I wanted from his collection.”

"Is that so? How kind of him. And you selected _The Romantic Adventures of Kyphon and Loog_ because…?”

“It’s a very misleading title!”

True, one would be unlikely to guess the romantic adventures in question were of Kyphon and Loog themselves but it isn’t as if the prince didn’t become aware of the fact as he read.

Glenn leers. “I remember when you and Felix would pretend to be Loog and Kyphon. You would reenact the stories you read of them. I’m certain he would be more than willing to—“

Prince Dimitri rips _The Romantic Adventures of Kyphon and Loog_ in half. Presumably, accidentally.

“You go too far,” Prince Dimitri accuses him. “Stop laughing!”

Glenn doesn’t stop laughing.

“Glenn,” Prince Dimitri whines. The look on his face is ever so pitiful, like Uncle Florian’s wolfhound when he denies her scraps from his meal.

“Ah, teasing you is one of my greatest joys in life.” The other of his greatest joys, of course, is teasing Felix.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” the prince grumbles.

“It’s my privilege as your elder. I’ll be a hundred years old and still not be tired of it.”

“Just eat your meal already.”

Glenn obeys him simply because his stomach chooses that moment to remind him of its hunger with a loud growl. There will be plenty of time to tease Prince Dimitri later.

Years and years of time if the goddess is kind to them.

**Author's Note:**

> for a character that never appears in canon i sure can't stop thinking about glenn fraldarius!!! for this fic at least, i imagined him being 5-6 years older than felix/dimitri/ingrid. so he dies at about 19-20 :')
> 
> find me on twitter as @imoshen where i don't shut up about dimilix these days


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